


you're fine and you're mine and you (look so divine)

by robin_hoods



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Hot Weather, M/M, Masturbation, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the middle of the night, and hot, and Mickey can't sleep, while of course Gallagher is out like a light. There's only one way to solve his frustration -- but Ian has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're fine and you're mine and you (look so divine)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Redbone's Come and Get Your Love.
> 
> I imagined this being set in the night where Ian sleeps over at Mickey's place before the dreaded thing that happens in episode six, but technically it could be set whenever. Doesn't really matter.
> 
> In other news, I'm still horrifyingly awful at writing porn. :D

It's a fucking sauna inside Mickey's room, despite the open window. Mickey has to resist the temptation to rip the single sheet covering his body off the bed, considering it would probably wake Gallagher up. He risks a sideway glance to the other occupant of his bed, but Ian's head is turned away and buried into the pillow. Even if he is awake (and his snores had been keeping Mickey awake earlier, so no, definitely asleep), he wouldn't have noticed Mickey staring at him.

His back is damp against the mattress, and he moves around a little, grimacing when his thighs move against each other, sticky with sweat. He almost groans in relief when he bends his leg and presses it against the cold wall. Next to him, Ian turns and sighs in his sleep, and lets the arm that was lying by his side drop by the edge of the bed.

The El rattles by with ear-shattering noise, but he's used to it by now. Mickey closes his eyes and slips his hand between his legs, wrapping his hand around his cock. It's already slick with sweat, and he only has to think about what happened last night before he feels it stiffening between his fingers.

These days, he always imagines they're Gallagher's long fingers rubbing up and down his shaft, doesn't even have to try hard to remember what it feels like.

They usually don't talk much during sex.  
  
One time Ian had said something like, “You like it hard, don't you, baby?" Mickey had elbowed him in the face, mood ruined. Needless to say, Ian has been able to keep any pet names to himself – he has to, if he still wants to get laid.  
  
So instead, Mickey imagines Ian's hot breath on his skin while Mickey tries to form words that don't make him sound like some bitch desperate for more cock. (It never really works; he can hardly remember how to breathe when Ian is fucking him, and when they're done and wipe themselves off, he can't bring himself to care.)  
  
By now, he's fully hard, and pre-cum has started to trickle down. He briefly brings his hand up, licks his thumb, and then reaches down again to rub over the slit on the tip.   
  
“What're you doing?” Ian sleepily asks just when Mickey tilts his head back on the pillow.  
  
“What's it look like?” Mickey snipes back, turning his head to glare at Ian.   
  
“Like you're having fun without me,” Ian replies as he snakes his hand underneath Mickey's leg, his expression still soft and hazy when his hand joins Mickey's.   
  
Ian knows exactly how to get Mickey off, where to put his hands and his mouth to make him moan the loudest. Mickey hates and loves it at the same time. Their fingers join around his cock, Ian's thumb almost teasingly stroking down the side while Mickey keeps still, his breath caught in his throat. That's the best part about handjobs, not knowing what Ian's gonna do, how he's gonna move. Well, maybe second best part. There's still the whole getting off bit.   
  
He withdraws his own hand, and groans when Ian wraps his hand around his length entirely, his head dipping under the covers momentarily before he reappears between Mickey's bare legs. Because of fucking course he had still been underneath the sheets, being decently covered up while Mickey had lain spread-eagled beside him, sweating his ass off.  
  
Ian works his hand quickly, smearing pre-cum with his fingers, his eyes flickering up every now and then to Mickey's face to see his reactions.  
  
And as much as Mickey wants to say there ain't much to see, Ian's grin is all too telling – Mickey would've been annoyed by the look on his face if it weren't for the fact that Gallagher's giving him a stellar handjob.  
  
“Fuck,” he says when he comes all over Ian's hand, his brain barely able to form the word (but he's had a lot of practice saying it, so his mouth does the job just as well).  
  
“Yeah,” Ian agrees, and at least he doesn't lie down right on top of Mickey when he's wiped his hand off, because it's still way too fucking hot for that to happen.   
  
Ian is back to snoring in no time, as if nothing ever happened, while Mickey lies completely still, feeling the remnants of his orgasm seep away. He glances sideways, and wonders if Ian would mind if he returned the favour. Probably not. Nothing like a good old-fashioned hand wrapped around your dick, after all.

 


End file.
